


Five Times Elias Called (and One Time He Didn't)

by ThoseDaysThatWill



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, Phone Calls, Vancouver Canucks, fluffy phone calls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseDaysThatWill/pseuds/ThoseDaysThatWill
Summary: “I miss you.”“It’s been two hours.” Elias pointed out, reasonably.“So?” Brock had no intentions of being reasonable.





	Five Times Elias Called (and One Time He Didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the combination of many different prompts, possibly all from one Anon, maybe from more than one. But the main prompt that started me out on this was "things you said with too many miles between us". Here you go, Anon, it's long for all the prompts I owe you.
> 
> The Swedish is from Google Translate. If you want to correct it, please be nice about it.

**I. The first time Elias called after the season ended, Brock was surprised.**

Elias kept his own apartment because he liked having his own space. Brock could respect that without understanding it. He wanted Elias in his space as much as possible, and so Elias usually spent most of his time at his (or what Brock called their) place. They had parted ways that morning, to get their respective apartments in order before leaving Vancouver for the season. Elias was heading to Worlds, but Brock was just going home. He might have dragged Elias home with him if more hockey wasn’t calling his boyfriend to Europe. He said as soon as the tournament was over, he’d come visit and Brock believed him.

He missed him the second after the door closed. There was a dull ache in his chest that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried. There was an empty space beside him everywhere he went. He had never felt so lonely in his entire life. And he had seen him less than an hour ago. How was he supposed to survive this way? Being in love was all at once wonderful and terrible.

He answered his phone a little too eagerly, “Hello?”

Elias sighed, and Brock understood with just that sound that Elias was having all of the same thoughts he was. He was suffering as much as Brock was. It made him feel so much better that he laughed out loud. Elias didn’t say anything about that, but Brock could see the little disapproving shake of his head through the phone.

“Hi. I am missing some grey pants. Did I leave them there?” Elias asked, but his tone was that one where he already knew the answer, he just wanted to see if _you_ knew what _he_ knew.

Brock hummed for a moment as he walked into their bedroom, “I don’t think so.” He balanced the phone on his shoulder, as he shuffled through the appropriate drawer. After a moment, he pulled a pair out, and held them up to his own waist, “Mmhmm, these wouldn’t fit me.”

The sound of Elias’ chuckle sent a shiver up the back of Brock’s neck. “Are they _grey_?”

“Mm mm, they’re blue. Dark blue, what’d’ya call that? Navy blue.” He heard himself rambling, but there was nothing he could do about it. “They’re totally yours, but they’re not grey. I don’t see grey ones.”

Elias sighed, “Look in the drawer to the left.”

Brock blinked a few times, but dutifully opened the drawer to reveal a pair of grey pants, neatly folded, on the top of the pile, “How’d you know that?”

Elias laughed out loud. Brock closed his eyes and just enjoyed the sound for the seconds that it lasted. He found himself wishing he had a way to record that, but quickly shook his head at the idea. That was dopey even for him. He was so wrapped up in his laugh that it took him a moment to realize Elias was actually answering his question.

“Who do you think puts away our laundry?” He said with a tisk.

 _Our laundry_. The summer was already too damn long, and he was still in Vancouver. “Uh… you?”

Elias was shaking his head again, he could hear it in his voice, “If I didn’t, no one would.” He sighed, but Brock knew he liked being needed like that. “If I come over to get them, will it take an hour for me to leave again?”

“Fuck, I hope so.” Brock groaned, “Did I say that out loud?”

Elias chuckled again, “Maybe I just read your mind.”

It was Brock’s turn to sigh, “I miss you.”

“It’s been two hours.” Elias pointed out, reasonably.

“So?” Brock had no intentions of being reasonable.

Elias was shaking his head again, “I will come over in about twenty minutes. If you’re a good boy, maybe I will wear my grey pants home.”

Brock groaned, “Your apartment is so close! It won’t take you twenty minutes.”

“I still have things to do _here_. And I do have to get some sleep tonight because my flight is early.” Elias had that casual tone that he got when he knew full well whatever he was saying was driving Brock absolutely crazy. He did it far too often in front of the camera and Brock loved every minute of it.

He sighed deeply, “ _Fine_. We’re waiting for you.” He emphasized the ‘we’ because he wasn’t above using his dog to get him over there faster.

Elias gave a short ‘hmm’ sound. “Maybe I will take thirty minutes, because I will be longer there with having to give Coola some time before he goes, too.”

“ _Coolie.”_ Brock corrected, with a short laugh. It was an ongoing argument. And it went the same way every time.

“Stop that. You cannot change his name like that.”

“I didn’t change his name, it’s a _nickname_ and he likes it.”

“We are not nickname people.”

“You go by a nickname every day.”

“That is hockey, that does _not_ count.”

“It counts.”

“It does not count. We are not _off-ice_ nickname people.”

“Maybe he’s _off-ice_ nickname people.”

“He’s our people, and we are not _off-ice_ nickname people.”

“We could be _off-ice_ nickname people. I have an _off-ice_ nickname.”

“No one calls you that. It’s silly.”

“You’re jealous because me and _Coolie_ are _off-ice_ nickname people and you’re not.”

“Smeknamn är inte svenska och _vi_ är svenska personer.”

And that’s how Brock lost the argument every single time. Elias knew it too. Brock had long since stopped trying to hide what it meant to him when Elias said that _they_ were Swedish. It wasn’t that he had any illusions that he could pass for a Swede unless he kept his mouth shut (and even then, just being blonde wasn’t really enough) but that wasn’t the point. Sweden meant a lot to Elias and Elias meant everything to Brock.

He sighed, “I love you.”

Elias gave a soft laugh, and Brock could imagine how he was tilting his head down just a little and that smile was playing on his lips. He got that look every time he said that. It was Brock’s very favorite look of his, which was saying a lot considering there wasn’t a look he had that he _didn’t_ like. And he had catalogued them all.

His voice was soft, “Jag älskar dig mer än något.”

Brock didn’t have much Swedish yet, just the bits and pieces that Elias repeated often enough for Brock to learn in context, and a couple others that he’d looked up himself. And whatever DuoLingo was trying to teach him, which wasn’t much because he forgot to use it until he got those sad-owl emails. However, through all that, there was _one_ phrase that he always understood. And that was it.

“Ten minutes? _Please?_ ” He tried not to whine, but he doubted that he actually succeeded. “Or less?”

Elias chuckled, “Open the door, älskare.”

**II. The second time Elias called, he was in Slovakia.**

Brock had been home for a few days by then and he was adjusting. He still thought about Elias pretty much all the time, but he found he _could_ have a whole conversation without mentioning him. At times for twenty or thirty minutes, even. It wasn't his fault that his parents asked questions about him, or about things that lead to talking about him. And it wasn't his fault that pretty much everything made him think of him. He was getting used to keeping that in his head and not looking like a complete idiot around his family. 

He thought he had succeeded at that when his mother sat him down at the kitchen table, "Why don't you go see him?" She asked, very gently. 

Brock shook his head, "He's playing for Sweden, he's too busy. Besides, I _like_ being here. I miss you and everyone, too. I want to spend time with everyone here." He did mean that, very sincerely, but there was a slight hint of something else in his voice, a hesitation that his mother read pretty quickly. 

" _But_ you miss him more?" She asked. 

Brock just sighed, "It's fine, Mom. Really. I'm fine. I've got some people coming out soon, so I can't just go fly off to Europe." He might not have answered the question, but that was an answer in and of itself. 

"Well, maybe you should call him?" She suggested. 

"No." Brock answered quickly, "We decided that the phone is worse. We text though. That's fine." In truth, Elias had decided, and Brock thought he agreed, that hearing each other's voices but not being there together would just make things harder. Elias had also pointed out that if either of them was going to break the agreement, it would _obviously_ be Brock. So, he was determined not to. 

She shook her head, "If you say so. Just be careful when you go out on the water, okay? You're distracted." 

He made a face at that, "I am _not_. I--" His phone rang just then and after checking the caller ID, he nearly vaulted out of his seat, "Uh, be right back, Mom." He might have heard her laugh as he walked out to the porch and closed the slider behind him, "Hello?"

"Hej!" Elias' voice sounded surprisingly cheerful despite the fact that Brock knew full well that Sweden had lost the first game of the tournament earlier that day. "Jag saknar dig." 

Brock blinked a few times and didn't reply right away. He'd never heard Elias' voice like this before, but he wasn't sure exactly what was different about it. It wasn't just the Swedish. Elias tossed Swedish into their conversations all the time because he claimed that hearing it in context was the best way to learn. He knew 'jag' and 'dig', but the word in the middle was beyond him. "Hey, babe. Sucks about the game, but you got a point. Your first?"

Elias scoffed, " _Nej_. Jag var här förra året. Vi vann _guld_." 

Brock understood the word 'no', so that was enough translating for the moment. He also was able to finally place what was weird about his voice, "You're drunk?" 

Elias laughed, "Ja. _Lite grann._ " 

He sighed, "So the odds of any _English_ happening are...?" 

"I can talk English!" Elias protested, "I talk English to some of them. They are NHL people, they know English good. I play with Patric, and you know in English they call him _'Horny'_ and he earn that. _He_ is nickname people." 

Brock found himself gripping his phone a little tighter, "Yeah?" What the fuck was he supposed to say to that?! He knew Elias never liked what he called the 'caveman routine' that Brock could do when someone flirted with him, so he tried not to, but that was back in Vancouver when he could physically stand between Elias and whoever it was. There was nothing he could do from thousands of miles away. 

Elias laughed again, but this time it was quieter, "You have that look. I can see it." 

Brock took in a deep breath. Elias' laugh still wasn't right, and he didn't like it. "What look?"

"You... how does the English word go? Avundsjuk?" He sighed, "I know the word, but my brain is on wrong right now." 

Brock had a pretty good idea what the word he was looking for was, but he ignored that for the moment. "Are you in your hotel room?" 

"Mmhmm." Elias sighed again, "I was laying here, and I think... I wish you was here. I say you was going to be the one to call, but it was me." 

Brock sighed. If he had anything else in his head, it was gone now. That was all he needed to hear. "I miss you so much." 

"Ja, I say that too. I talk about you all the time. I say 'when me and Brock play we do this' and 'when me and Brock play we do that' and finally they say 'who cares what you and Brock do, he is not Swedish, he can't help us here!' And I say that I wish you was! We lose to the Czechs, and bad! We win Gold and then we lose first game next time? That is not good." Elias wasn't exactly slurring his words, but Brock was pretty sure some of those words in there were the ones that are similar enough between Swedish and English that he understood them.

He couldn't help but smile, "You'll win the next one." He could listen to Elias rant about hockey all night long and be a very happy man. 

Elias scoffed, "We play Italy! We don't win that, we need to come home!" He groaned, "Can you imagine _Sweden_ lose to Italy?! That would be the worst thing ever!" 

Brock dropped into one of the deck chairs facing the lake and put his feet up on the railing, "Okay, okay, I didn't know you were playing Italy. You'll win that one for sure." 

"We _should_ have won this one!" Elias smacked the bed beside him, and Brock could almost feel the swat on his arm. He _would_ have swatted his arm had he been beside him, like he should have been. He could feel it anyway.

"I know. What happened?" Brock closed his eyes, picturing any one of the many road hotel rooms they'd shared. Elias liked the side of the bed close to the wall, in the bed closest to the wall. Brock didn't really care, so he just took the other side. Elias liked the AC on, year 'round, because he burrowed under as many blankets as he could pile, to start, and later under Brock. Without the cold air, he'd overheat. The idea of fewer blankets or less blanketing was completely absurd to him. Brock could hear the he had the AC running in his Slovakian hotel room and then he heard him shift under the blankets. He could picture every bit of it. Elias gave a low moan as he stretched out, and Brock kept his eyes closed, watching the scene happen just as it had forty-one times last season. 

"You watch the game. I saw your texts." Elias' voice was muffled by the blankets. 

"Yeah? So? That's not _you_ telling me about it." He pointed out, trying not to sound too desperate just to hear his voice a little longer. 

"Mm mm, I am too tired. It is one a.m. here! You-- wait." There was the sound of some shuffling and then Brock could hear the sound of the air conditioner get louder and Elias' voice was further away. He was on speakerphone. "You tell me about the lake. I need to sleep." 

Brock laughed, "Okay, babe. Close your eyes. We took the boat out today early..." 

**III. The third time Elias called, Brock was sound asleep.**

After the first Slovakia-to-Minnesota call, Brock was comfortable calling him around the same time pretty much every day. He didn't realize until later that what as about 5pm for him was around midnight for Elias, but he never complained. He just fell asleep on the phone with him. Eventually, he learned to call earlier, to get more time with coherent conversation. After the initial loss, Sweden won five games in a row and Elias scored a few times. Brock watched all the games, but he was still glad to hear Elias' retelling of them. And in return he'd regale him with tales of the lake and his adventures on it. This had become their habit and Brock adjusted to it quickly. 

When the phone rang at 3am, it startled him. Without checking the caller ID, he answered, "What?" He would blame his tone on the fact that he wasn't fully awake. 

There was silence on the other end. 

Rubbing his eyes and sitting up, he tried again, "Hello?" 

"Hej." His voice was soft. 

Brock blinked a few times at the clock on his nightstand to make the numbers come into focus. "Babe? Why are you calling at 3:12am?" 

Elias sighed, "Because I need to hear you." 

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to wake himself up more. He knew that tone of voice, Elias was worried. "Uh, okay. I'm here. What do you need to hear me about?" 

"I'm sorry I said for you not to come here with me." Elias' voice was quiet, even for him. 

Brock sighed, "I know you're nervous about Finland tomorrow. But you'll be fine. You guys have been kicking ass and taking names." 

Elias scoffed, "Not Russia!" 

"Okay, yeah, but you won _five_ other ones." He pointed out. 

"But not _that_ one. I wanted to win that one." 

"You want to win them all. It just doesn't work out that way sometimes. You play your ass off, you know that, I know that. I see it. That's all you can do it. You've scored a bunch, that's all you can contribute. You're doing everything you can for Sweden." Brock was trying for logic, which wasn't usually his role. But they had already gone over this when they'd lost to Russia, and he knew all the arguments he was going to get. The last thing he expected were the next words to come out of Elias' mouth. 

"I want you to come here." 

Brock was silent. 

Elias took in a deep breath and spoke it all out at once, "I know we said we could do this fine. I know we said it was a good thing, some space and some time. I know I play in Sweden, I play Worlds, I do all these things alone before I met you, and I was fine. I can do them. But now... all I can think about is you. I am on the ice and on the bench and I look for you and you're not there. And I lay in bed and I know I should sleep and all I can think about what it tastes like to kiss you, and then I think about the sounds you make when I put my hands in your hair, and I think about the way you know just where to touch me every time. I think about that and I can't stop. I'm sorry."

Brock was still silent. 

"Are you there?" By the sound of his voice, he might have had tears, and Brock couldn't stand the thought of that. 

He took in a deep breath, but there was only one thing he could say, "Oh my god, I love you so much." 

Elias laughed, maybe with a little relief in his voice, "I could have just said that." 

"What's there to do for an hour in Amsterdam?"

"What?" He could see Elias blinking at him so clearly in his mind.

Brock laughed, "I have an hour layover in Amsterdam and I've never been there before."

Elias gave a long deep sigh, "You are coming?" 

"You only had to ask me, babe. I'd go anywhere for you." Brock knew that was cheesy and might have been a song lyric, but he was very sincere about meaning it. He had wanted to give Elias his space, because he thought that's what he wanted. That’s what he had _said_ he wanted. Brock had tried to make it sound like that's what he wanted, too, but he hadn't. He hated being away from him, even for a few weeks. Hell, even for a few days. 

Elias made a soft sound that was almost a whimper but wasn't. "I love you." 

Brock laughed, "Mmm, I noticed. But you can always tell me again." He hauled his bag out of his closet, setting it up on his bed, "You can tell me all about how much you love me as I get packed." 

"Mmm, älskare... don't pack _too_ much... you don't have to wear nothing here with me." Elias was smirking, he could hear it in his voice. 

He laughed again, "That's why you're having me come there, so I can lay naked in your bed." 

"You know my secret now, that is all I want to see. I just want a beautiful man in my bed to make love to me." 

Brock groaned, "Don't say that kind of thing when I'm all the way the fuck over here and I can't do that for another fourteen hours." 

He could hear the sound of Elias walking and then there were muffled voices from somewhere nearby, but Brock couldn't understand the words. He had a feeling even if he could, they would have been in Swedish, and all the sounds combined had a locker room feel. While he had tried to work on the language as the season had gone on, he didn't have enough success to follow an actual conversation in Swedish. Especially not the half-pronounced way that guys talked around a locker room. 

After straining to try to hear the voices in the background, Elias' voice sounded especially loud and startled him. "Jag pratar med min pojkvän." More Swedish told him Elias wasn't talking to him, so Brock didn't say anything. He did know one of those words, though. 'Pojkvän' meant he was being talked about. He kept listening, while he was tossing clothes into his bag. "Jag är inte sen. Jag var här." Elias scoffed, "Jag pratade med min pojkvän." 

Despite the fact that hearing Elias call him his boyfriend to other people, in any language, was one of his favorite sounds on the planet, he spoke up, "Babe? Your boyfriend is going to hang up if you don't actually talk to _him_." 

Even across the miles and through the phone, Brock could see and feel the glare that Elias gave him. "I have to get ready for practice." 

"I have to get on a plane. We should both hang up." He sat on the edge of his bed, "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll see you beat Finland tomorrow and then I _might_ even root for Sweden over the US in the Semifinals." 

Elias scoffed, "You _will_ root for Sweden. If you cared so much about the US, you would have played. But no, you is so lazy. You is a bad American. Oh, wait, that makes you good at being American, ja?" 

Brock coughed out a laugh, "You might have a point there. I mean, fuck you."

Elias laughed softly, his tone teasing, "Maybe later."

From the background, Brock could clearly hear a voice he recognized, "Säga Brock för att lägga den bort, för att du måste vara på isen."

Brock rolled his eyes, "Was that Loui? Whatever he said, I heard my name in there. Tell him I said something rude." 

"I will tell him." Elias raised his voice, ostensibly so Loui could hear him, laughing as he called out, "Brock said, 'Min pojkvän kan prata med mig när han vill, så du kan stänga din mun.' "

Brock couldn't help but laugh, too, despite the fact that he could only pick out a couple words and thus didn't understand why what he said was funny. "Yeah, I totally said _exactly_ that." 

"Loui flipped you off." Elias reported. 

Brock scoffed, "I'll say something else rude to him when I get there. I'll look it up on the plane." 

"Good use of that time." Elias laughed, and Brock couldn't help but sigh at the sound. "Come to me quick." 

"As soon as I can, babe." 

**IV. The fourth time Elias called, he was hiding.**

Brock's vacation in Slovakia had been very short. He watched Sweden lose to Finland the day after he got there, then heard the US hadn't managed to win their game either. Canada was advancing, but for _some_ reason, Elias didn't want to go watch their game. Instead they went to Austria, simply because neither of them had been there. It had been nice to just be together, as a couple, with no pressures and no expectations. They could sightsee and dine out, without ever being interrupted or photographed. Their next obligation was just under a month away, so it wasn't hard to talk each other into 'one more day' enough times to stretch their Vienna excursion into a weeklong vacation. Brock was sure he had never felt so absolutely content as he had laying in their hotel room bed well past morning, wrapped up with each other, just talking and laughing. 

But eventually their obligations caught up to them, and they parted ways at the airport in Vienna, with Brock flying back to Minnesota, and Elias meeting up with friends in Germany. Brock called him when he landed, but they agreed that they wouldn't be on the phone every day, that they'd spend time with their friends and their family, and they'd meet up again later in the summer. Brock offered to go to Las Vegas with him, for the awards show, but Elias told him that his parents were going with him, and he'd be fine. He said that he didn't want to keep dragging him away from the lake, and Brock had to admit he didn't _want_ to go to Nevada if he didn't have to. Sometime after the show, Elias would come see him, they agreed. 

Brock decided to watch the awards show alone. He knew Elias was going to win (that much was obvious) and he wanted to be able to enjoy watching that without anyone commenting, not even his family. He was glad he could be laying on his couch, he told himself, wearing a pair of shorts, rather than having to stuff himself into a suit. But watching how nervous Elias looked, his resolve waivered. He should have been there for him, he chastised himself. He knew Elias liked to be able to do these things on his own, because he'd been raised to be completely self-reliant. He knew how guilty Elias had felt 'making' Brock fly all the way to Slovakia just to watch him lose, but all the same, he should have insisted on going to Vegas with him. Next time, he told himself, they'd do it together, they'd do all these things together, no matter what he said. 

He tuned out the pointless banter of the presenters and smiled when he spotted himself in Elias' highlight reel. _You've got this, babe,_ he texted, despite the fact he knew he wouldn't see it until after it was all over. Despite that, he still stared at his phone just a little too long, hoping for a reply. His eyes snapped up to the screen just in time to watch Elias walk up to the stage. He turned the volume up to hear every word of his mumbled speech as clearly as he could, and was surprised when that caused Coolie (he could call him whatever he pleased in his own head) to dash into the room, barking excitedly. 

Brock couldn't help but laugh, "He's not here." The dog did a few laps of the room and jumped up onto the couch beside him, clearly disappointed. He reached out to pet his head, "I know, I miss him too. But look." He pointed to the TV, as if the dog could understand. Maybe he could, he didn't know. "We knew he'd win it, and he looks _damn_ good up there." He rewound the show, this time recording the announcement with his phone. A few smiles and hearts and that video was ready for Instagram. He was more excited for Elias winning that he would have been if he'd taken it home last year. If only one of them could have won it, Elias deserved it much more. 

_SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU!!_ he texted to Elias, along with a long series of smiling, laughing, and heart-related emojis, _J_ ag älskar dig!

He tossed his phone on the coffee table. It would be a while before Elias would even get to _look_ at all of his messages, not to mention reply to them. He had photo shoots and interviews and all that stuff that he hated to do to get through first before he had a moment to look at his phone. Even if Brock had been there, it would have been a while before he could see him, he reminded himself. He tried to watch the rest of the awards show, but honestly, he couldn't care less about it. He didn't have any teammates up for anything, and even if he had, nothing would have stopped him from rewinding the show and watching Elias' speech a few more times. It took a couple tries to be able to pause it at just the moment that he gave that damn smile, that one that absolutely shot through Brock like an electric shock. It was brief, but it was there. And it was his, _just_ his. Another part of the reason he wanted to watch alone was that he wasn't accountable to anyone for how long he stared at that smile. 

When his phone started vibrating, he almost ignored it. He was sure it was a teammate or a friend that had seen Elias win and wanted to talk about it. It was almost a second thought to glance at the caller ID. He was shocked by the name that flashed across the top of the screen. He grabbed for it, quickly answering the call, "Hello?" 

"Tack!" Elias' voice was a whisper and he sounded out of breath, "Tack så mycket." 

Brock laughed, "Don't thank me. _You_ earned it. I'm so proud of you!" 

"We did. I would never have if not for you. I would never have _nothing_ if not for you, I think." Elias was never one for the dramatic, but the awards shows did have a way of being overwhelming. Brock assumed even more so if you actually won something, but he didn't know that personally. 

"You did lots before me." He pointed out. 

Elias was very quick to respond, "I do _more_ with you. Much more." 

"Me too. That's why I couldn't win it, I didn't have my other half to make me look good, like _you_ do." Brock teased. 

"You laugh, but that is true! This is for me and you, together." Elias insisted. He sighed, "I have to go, but I needed to hear you. Text wasn't good enough." 

"Where are you?" He asked, it just now dawning on him that Elias' voice was quiet even for him. 

"I sneaked away, to the bathroom." Elias took in a deep breath, "I need to say to you that when I was up there, I wanted to say 'I love you' to you right on that stage." 

"I saw it." Brock admitted, "It's still up on my TV." 

He laughed, "I know you would." 

"Jag älskar dig." Brock knew his accent was bad, but he tried. 

Elias laughed, "I love you. I love you more when you try to talk Swedish." He sighed, "I have to go." 

"Call me when you get back to your room, I don't care what time it is." Brock tried to keep his voice from sounding whiny, "I miss you." 

"I will come to you soon." Elias promised before he ended the call. 

Brock sighed, "Soon." He echoed, looking up at the TV screen, "Not soon enough." From beside him, Coolie barked in agreement. 

**V. The fifth time Elias called, he was in the airport.**

Since the night of the awards show, they didn't talk on the phone much. Elias was moving from time zone to time zone and neither of them couldn't keep up with what time it was where the other one was. Neither of them liked being woken up by the phone, even if they both (without telling the other) made sure to turn on the ringer before they went to bed, just in case. However, they texted almost constantly, sending pictures and stories back and forth, leaving messages and videos for when the other woke up. The first thing Brock did when he opened his eyes was to look at his phone to see what Elias had been up to the night before. For his part, Elias never seemed to tire of pictures of the lake and their (as he called him) dog. Or if he did, he never said so.

Brock's phone woke him up, but in the caller's defense, it was nearly noon, and Brock had no business being asleep. In Brock's defense, he and some local friends had built a bonfire and had gone very late into the night, drinking and singing. There may have been roasted marshmallows, too, but the drinking had come first and thus he didn't remember clearly every detail of the night before. All he knew was that he had planned then to sleep late into the morning, and the afternoon sun streaming in his window clued him into the fact that he had succeeded there.

The phone was still ringing, and Elias' name was displayed across the top of the screen. It was a moment before he could gain enough fine motor skills to swipe the answer button. His voice was gravely, but his tone was bright, "Hello?"

Elias sighed, "You were _sleeping_?"

"Uh, well..." Brock, looked at the alarm clock beside his bed, and found it to read 12:47. "Not exactly."

"Liar." Elias scoffed. "I know all of your voices. That was your asleep voice."

Brock ran a hand through his hair, "I was up late last night. We stayed out with the bonfire until, uh, I don't even know when."

"I saw the pictures you sent me. They were nice. But you slept in your trunks, didn't you?" Elias' tone was accusing, and despite the fact he phrased it as a question, he already knew the answer.

With sigh, he glanced down at his lap, as if he didn’t know what he was wearing, "Maybe."

Elias chuckled, softly, "You did, and you probably still smell like smoke and taste like beer. You need to shower and brush your teeth. Then you can come get me."

Brock blinked a couple times. There was no language barrier, and yet Brock found himself wondering if he'd mistranslated something, "What?"

Elias' tone was teasingly patronizing, and Brock knew full well his smirk matched his voice. "First, shower. Then, brush your teeth. After that, get in your car and come get me. You _must_ do things in that order. I could text you the list, if you need it."

Brock groaned, "That look you have right now! I have such an urge to push you into a pool or check you into the boards. What are you talking about?"

Elias sighed, "I missed you too much. When I woke up and you weren't there. Or when I saw something interesting and wanted to show you. Or when we went out dancing and I didn't want to dance with anyone else, because their hands felt all wrong. Or when I went to bed and it was too cold because I was in bed alone."

Bock sighed heavily, "Yeah, me too, all those things." After a split-second pause, he sat up straighter, "Who the fuck were you dancing with that was _touching_ you?"

Elias laughed, "I was wondering if you missed that. It doesn't matter who, I didn't like it. I want to dance with you."

"Mmhmm, like that time in our hotel room in Detroit." He sighed, "This summer is going by too slow."

Elias was shaking his head, Brock could hear it in the tone of his voice, "Did you not hear what I said?"

"I heard you said you miss me, and you want me to-- _wait_. You said to come get you. _Where?!"_ Brock had stood up by then and was starting to make his way for the bathroom, collecting his towels on the way. He wasn't doing it with any conscious though, but because somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he had been told to shower and dress.

"My ticket said MSP, which if I look around here, I understand stands for Minneapolis-Saint Paul, which I assume is followed by 'International Airport' because I could fly here directly from Amsterdam. That's where my layover was. Just an hour, I watched your bonfire videos. Your singing was very awful." His tone was very matter-of-fact and monotone, but Brock could so clearly see how much his eyes were laughing as he spoke.

"Layover..." Brock shook his head, "You're at the airport? You're _here?!"_

Elias laughed out loud, so much so he could barely speak, "Good morning, älskare."

Brock scoffed at his laugh, but he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, "You... you flew here? I didn't know you were going to do that. Did I? No, I know you didn't tell me that. I would remember. Why didn't you tell me? I would have met you! I would have been there! How long have you been here? When did you get here?" 

"Slow down." Elias took in a deep breath, "I... I just got on a plane. I didn't tell anyone. I went to the airport and booked the next flight. I just arrived half an hour ago. It took me that long to buy water and find my suitcase. My bag made it here with me, I was honestly surprised. When I flew to Italy last year, it took a whole day to get my suitcase to join me."

"Forget about your luggage! You're _here?!_ Elias!" Brock very rarely used his name. When they were alone, he was fond of pet names, calling him 'babe' more often than anything else. When he was talking to the press, he'd call him 'Petey', after the disaster of trying to learn how to say his name at the beginning of the season. Someone was kind enough to compile into a YouTube video every time he (and other teammates) mispronounced it. That went around the locker room for a while, no matter how hard Brock tried to get it to go away. He worked hard on being able to pronounce Elias' name like a Swede, but post-game wasn't the time for that, so Petey it was. 

Hearing his name made Elias laugh all the more, "I am here. I came to you. I said I would." 

"Yeah, but I thought that was going to be _later_." Brock sat on the edge of the tub, "I mean, I'm glad! Fuck, I'm _so_ glad, but my place is a mess and I--"

"Brock!" Elias raised his voice just a little, but it was enough to shut him up quickly. He quieted his voice again with a soft sigh, "I am here to see you, not your house. Or even your lake. Just you. A _clean and showered_ you, please."

"Okay, okay. I'm going to grab a quick shower. I'll be there as soon as I can. Go to Sköl, I'll meet you there." Brock flipped the water on, holding his hand under the spray, "I went there the other day, just because it makes me think of having you here in my state."

Elias sighed, "Do you remember how much I complained about their menu? There are _much_ better Swedish places we went to when we played the Wild!" 

Brock laughed, "That's my favorite part. I love hearing you complain."

He scoffed, "Hurry to pick me up, I will complain to you all the way back to your house if you want." 

"You? Here? You can say anything you want and I'm happy to hear it." 

Elias tisked, "You are such a sap." 

Brock shrugged, even if Elias couldn't see it, he could hear the tone that went with it. "Yeah, I am. But you flew here because you missed me, so what does that make you?" 

"In love with you." Elias grinned. 

Brock closed his eyes for a moment, letting that reply sink in. "Good answer. I love you, too. I'm going to hang up now, but I'll call you on the way." 

"Hurry up." Elias ordered. 

"Fast as I can." Brock promised, hanging up the phone. He tossed it on the counter and stepped into the shower, still grinning ear-to-ear.

**+1. The only time Elias didn't call, Brock deserved it.**

Elias' vacation in Minnesota had been too short, by Brock's standards, in that he had to leave at all. If he had his way, Elias would have stayed through July and August. But Elias had made plans he couldn't (or didn't want to) get out of, and both of them would need to get back to training sooner rather than later. Honestly, Brock could have easily spent the entire rest of the summer on the water, just drifting, tangled up with Elias, with the feel of his hands in his hair and the smell of his copious amounts of sunscreen. But reality reminded him that, even if Elias could have stayed, he himself had obligations, too. He had agreed to play in a charity game that he would have forgotten about if they hadn't called to remind him of the time and place.

Elias wouldn't let Brock come into the airport with him when he was leaving. It had been a struggle to even allow him to drive him to the parking lot. Elias never liked making any kind of scene, and while Brock would have been subtle about it, he understood it was the emotions, not the volume. Brock kissed him until the last possible second, and even a few moments past that. He watched him walk away until the door closed behind him and cranked his music for the drive home, so he couldn't think too much. That night, he slept on the pillow Elias had used and was surprised at how quickly he was able to fall asleep, despite the fact he hated sleeping alone now. 

The moment Brock woke, he grabbed for his phone, checking to see what Elias had been up to the night before. But on this particular day, he had no messages, no pictures. With a frown, he sent a text, _How is Spain?_ He stared at the phone, waiting, but received no reply. Telling himself that Elias was obviously busy, or maybe even sleeping (he was bad with time zones), and that didn't mean anything. He tossed his phone aside and started to get dressed. Every time his phone vibrated, he snatched it up, but every time it wasn't Elias. He half-heartedly replied to his friends and tossed his phone aside again, as if trying to prove to himself that he wasn't thinking about the lack of texts at all. 

Twelve hours without so much as a word made Brock call him. The phone rang all the way into his voicemail, but he didn't leave a message. His stomach was starting to knot up. He hadn't gone so long without hearing from him that he could remember, and he was worried. He couldn't think of anything he'd said or done that would have made Elias mad, they hadn't argued in the slightest. The last thing he said to him before he walked into the airport was that he loved him. He tried to call again, with the same results. With a sigh, he sent a text, _You mad at me? Everything okay?_ He tossed his phone to the side again. The silent treatment drove him insane, but it was even worse when he didn’t know what he did.

It was later that night that the text message beep was the one he'd been waiting for, but reading the text made him groan out loud. 

_It's been two weeks_ , Elias texted, _did you sign yet?_

Contract negotiations were something his agent handled; he barely even knew what was happening with them. His agent reported back every time he talked to the Canucks people. There wasn't much they could do, because Brock didn't have any other options as far as offer letters went because of his status. He'd keep trying, his agent had said, but there wasn't going to be much budge. Not too much longer, he promised. He took in a deep breath and texted back, _No, but it's close. Should be soon. It's going to happen. I promise._

It took Elias less than a minute to reply, _I'll talk to you again when it does._

 _I need to talk to you!_ Brock texted back quickly. 

_I need to play with you!_ was Elias' retort. 

Brock looked at the text for a long moment, before he replied, _Soon!_

Elias didn't reply. Brock hadn't expected him to.


End file.
